Red Beans and Vice (24 page)

“Will, I don’t like uncovering all this hidden stuff. I found a photo of Amelia in a teddy. Well, something like a teddy. And it was in Truely’s …” she realized she was going to tell on her own unlawful search if she didn’t watch out, “desk at home. I was using it today and I looked for a piece of paper and the photo of Amelia was stuck up in the drawer.”

“Do you think Mary Beth saw it? She was going through there last night,” Will asked with worry in his voice. “Surely she would have said something.”

Heaven, knowing the photo wasn’t really in the home desk said confidently, “No, it was stuck good between the drawer and the side of the desk. I just happened to feel it when I was looking for an eraser.”

“Eraser, sure. Don’t tell me another lie,” Will said with a grin. “You were nosing around in Truely’s desk.
I’m glad it was you and not Mary Beth. There’s no reason for her to worry about something that was over and done with.”

“So that leads me to ask. Was it really over and done with, because if it was, then maybe Amelia was mad enough to seek some kind of vengeance. I’ve seen her temper before.”

“Yes, the affair was definitely over. Not that Truely and I discussed it very much. But I knew he was seeing her, so he told me when he’d cut it off. He said she never thought it was going to be a permanent thing, that she was a little hurt, but he’d bought her something nice to remember him by.”

“What?”

“I didn’t ask, sugar. Now as to your friend Mary Beth. I’m as sure as I can be that she didn’t know a thing about it. Truely never showed off with Amelia. Although I’m shocked he was so careless with that photo. Heaven, you sure have been a busy girl. Why don’t you just slow down a little, get your blood pressure cooled off.”

Heaven got up and threw some money on the table. “Besides your former best friend, who’s dead, I’m the person who’s had the roughest time of it. I’ve been threatened, chased, shot at, and run off the road. It’s personal, Will.”

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Will said as he tried to give Heaven her money back. She was already halfway to the door.

“I’ve got homework to read,” she said and waved over her shoulder.

W
hen Heaven got to Mary’s house, it was empty. The maid was gone and so were Mary and the part-time
help. Maybe all of them were helping get ready for the party out at the roasting plant. Heaven was glad to have a moment of privacy. She took the paper on meth to the porch and spread out on the chaise lounge. When she finished reading it, she called Murray. He was steamed.

“I thought you said you’d call in every morning,” he said in lieu of hello.

“Murray, is something wrong? You have the number down here. Why didn’t you call me if something was wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. You just promised you’d keep in touch. It’s Friday. Are you coming home?”

“I’m staying until Monday, like I promised, or kinda promised Mary. Unless you need me.”

“We’re just fine. Has anything else happened?”

Heaven thought about the dead bird and breaking into the coffee warehouse. No need to bother him with that. “Nothing major. But the plot is getting thicker.” She told Murray about Will owning the house that had exploded last Saturday, about Amelia and Truely having an affair, and about the fake cross. “So what do you think I should do about this cross business? I can’t let Nancy Blair scam the nuns. Or, if it’s not her, her antique dealer friends.”

“Nancy has to know about it because she said she was going to New York for the auction. If she was totally innocent, her antique dealer friends wouldn’t let her come along to a sale of something she thought was safe and sound at the convent,” Murray said patiently, like he was talking to a novice reporter.

“You’re right, of course. I knew it would help to talk to you. Even if she didn’t start it, she’s going to get a cut of it now. So do I call the cops?”

“Well, you said she was a pretty cool old gal. Why not give her a chance to withdraw the cross from the sale before you go calling the NYPD?”

“You mean confront her?” That idea gave Heaven a nervous stomach. It was hard to imagine being a hard-ass with someone over seventy. Especially someone like Nancy Blair.

“You wouldn’t have to mention that you tracked down the real cross in New York. You could say you went over and looked at the cross and compared it with the old photographs and you’re sure it’s not the same, but do it completely straight, like you never in a million years thought she had anything to do with it,” Murray suggested.

“Good idea. But that’s not what I called to talk to you about. Are the waiters all there, by the way? How are reservations for tonight?”

“The early crew is here working on the dining room. We have two hundred reservations but all is well. Now what did you call about?”

“What do you know about methamphetamine?” Heaven asked, thumbing through the pages on her lap.

“That they make it in motel rooms all around the Kansas City metropolitan area.”

“Can you remember any big stories about it at all? I’ve got the list of ingredients here. I went to the library. They use paint thinner or battery acid to make the stuff, for God’s sake, and iodine.”

“You can take the active ingredient out of cold medicine and use that, I think,” Murray added.

“Yes, because you can turn the pseudoephedrine that’s in cold pills into ephedrine, which is a controlled substance.”

“I remember!” Murray shouted into the phone.

“Remember what?”

“I remember them seizing ten tons of that pseudo-ephedrine in Los Angeles last year. Even though it’s not a controlled substance, the DEA tracks big sales of it and they got ’em on a conspiracy beef.”

“Conspiracy to manufacture meth?” Heaven asked.

“Yeah,” Murray said, “which was a better collar than just possessing the pseudo stuff.”

“Where did it come from, do you remember?”

“Yeah. Mexico.”

“Murray, I knew your memory banks would have something. You remember all kinds of news stories. Thank you.”

“Why all the questions about meth?”

“Supposedly a meth lab exploded down the street from the convent just as Truely was getting dead.”

“That stuff is very volatile. Don’t get blown up,” Murray said jokingly, hoping Heaven would tell him there wasn’t a chance of that.

“Don’t worry, you have to mix it together wrong to get it to blow up. Bye, now.” Heaven hung up quickly, not wanting a lecture from Murray. She shuffled the papers around on her lap absentmindedly, deep in thought.

All of a sudden she realized the doorbell was ringing. She had so slipped into the ways of a house with servants, it hadn’t dawned on her that she should get the door. She rushed through the house and to her surprise it was the big man from the warehouse, the coffee tester, standing on the other side of the glass panes. She hesitated. In all the time she’d spent with Mary and Truely, which wasn’t all that much in the big picture, no one from the coffee business had come to the house. It was too late now. She couldn’t hide in the dining room or
run upstairs. He surely had seen her coming down the hall toward the front door. And why did he give her the heebie-jeebies anyway?

Heaven opened the door. This time she was determined to get his name. “Oh, hello there. We talked at the warehouse. I’m Heaven Lee. What’s your name?” She had given this speech without indicating the guy should step into the house. She hoped her body language showed she was in charge.

“Durant la Pointe,” he said without a hint of a smile. Heaven could feel the hostility emanating from him. “Is Miz Whitten here?”

“No, she’s not. Is there a problem at the warehouse?”

Durant tilted his head. “If there was, would you be the solution to it, or the cause of it?”

Heaven was taken aback. Did he know she’d burgled the place? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You sure had plenty of questions the other day. Too many.”

Heaven tried a coquettish smile, although her heart wasn’t in it. This guy was scaring her. “I’m like that. As to Mary’s whereabouts, I just got home myself and I’m not sure when she’ll get here. Do you want her to call you? Is there a message?”

Durant looked around at the beautiful wicker furniture on the gallery. “I’ll wait,” he said and perched on the very edge of the nearest chair. It was like he hated the thought of sitting on that big, comfortable chair on that big, comfortable gallery.

Heaven opened the door wider. “Mr. la Pointe, would you like to wait for Mary in the library?” The minute it was out of her mouth, she felt foolish. It sounded like a line from a Tennessee Williams play. Mr. la Pointe should have been followed by Mrs. Whitten. She should
have called it the office instead of the library. More businesslike. How stupid. It would be a long time before she had the knack of Southern conversation. She was hoping not to be around long enough to cultivate it.

Durant la Pointe looked at her with barely concealed contempt. “I’m fine right here.”

“But when Mary comes home, she’ll pull her car into the back. She won’t see you out here. Come on in.” Heaven hoped there was a neutral but pleasant look on her face.

Reluctantly, Durant got up and followed her in the house. Maybe he was as scared of her as she was of him. She smiled and indicated the library, stepping inside the room and waving her arm in the direction of two leather club chairs. “Make yourself comfortable. Would you like something to drink?” Heaven stopped herself before she said “something like lemonade,” which she had no idea if she could deliver.

“Nothing,” Durant said and perched on a club chair as he’d done outside on the wicker.

“Well, then,” Heaven said and swept out of the library, hoping her exit restored a little dignity to her persona. She wasn’t quite sure what to do next, so she went to the kitchen.

When Mary bustled in the back door a few minutes later, Heaven was making cookies.

“What in the world?” Mary said, her hands full of shopping bags.

“I miss cooking so I thought I’d bake something. One of your employees is here waiting for you.”

“One of my what?” Mary said as she unloaded her purchases on the kitchen table.

“One of Truely’s employees from the coffee warehouse.
Durant la Pointe. He’s in the library,” Heaven said.

“Is something wrong at the warehouse?”

“If it is he didn’t want to share it with me.”

“Thanks, Heaven. I better go see what he wants.” Mary’s voice trailed off as she hurried down the hall.

Heaven tried to remain focused on her project, but curiosity was one of her best traits. She creamed the sugar and butter together by hand using a big wooden spoon to burn up some energy. Then she turned on the oven and felt justified in sneaking down the hall while it was warming up. The voices in the library were muted, and Heaven couldn’t detect any anger or hostility. It must just be that Durant didn’t care for her. She started back to the kitchen, only to be busted by both Mary and Durant coming out of the library. All Heaven could do was ad-lib. “I was just coming to see if you needed a beverage,” she said sweetly.

Mary indicated Heaven with her hands. “Durant, did you meet my friend from Kansas City?” she asked, looking at Heaven as if she couldn’t remember her name.

“Kansas City, huh?” Durant said, rather impulsively friendly, Heaven thought.

“Yes, I’ll be going back there next week,” she said, wishing she could bite her tongue. What did he care about her travel schedule?

Mary took charge of this farce of a conversation. “Thank you for coming over, Durant. Let’s try to get that shipment out tomorrow.”

Durant la Pointe nodded and went down the long hall and out the front door without another word.

Why would Durant, who it had seemed to Heaven worked in incoming, be here at Mary’s home talking about outgoing?

“Where’s the cast of thousands that usually work here?” Heaven asked, trying to get them out of an awkward pause in the action here in the hall. Mary obviously didn’t want to discuss Durant with Heaven.

Relief on her face, Mary put her arm around Heaven and they walked back toward the kitchen. “I transferred them to the plant for a couple of days. They’re all out there fluffing the place up for the big party.”

“I’m a little hurt. You haven’t asked me to cook one thing for the party. Did my dish at the benefit make you lose confidence in my cooking?”

“Don’t be silly. Truely had the whole menu listed in the codicil to the will.”

“I guess red beans and rice are the main item?”

“Yes, from the Gumbo Shop. And Acme Oyster House is providing two oyster shuckers and the oysters and Uglesich’s is sending over enough Shrimp Uggie for two hundred. Praline Connection is doing all the sides, the greens and black-eyed peas and sweet potatoes and two or three other things. Really, all I had to do was follow directions. Truely had it all figured out.”

Heaven had found chocolate chips and pecans and was adding them to her cookie dough. She had no idea if these cookies would taste good or not and it didn’t make any difference. It had soothed her to throw them together. It was Friday and she still had more questions than she had answers. She had to admit she might have to go home without solving any of them. “Did Truely have a bout with cancer or something?”

“No, why?”

“Most people don’t have the menu to their wake written unless they have been face-to-face with the grim reaper.”

Mary looked uncomfortable. “I told you, it amused
him.” Tears started running down her cheeks. “I remember the night he did it. He tried to get me to write down my wishes.” She was really crying now, gulping for air. “I told him it was ghoulish. I stomped upstairs.”

Heaven hugged her friend, who was sobbing by this time. Without interrupting the tears she gently sat her down and got her a glass of water, then a glass of wine. “If you tell me where your tranquilizers are, I’ll go get you one.”

“My bathroom,” Mary said softly. She put her head down. Heaven went up and despite her desire to search Mary and Truely’s medicine chests, she just got the pills and went straight back down to the kitchen. Mary was standing at the kitchen sink, splashing water on her face. She took her pill bottle and shook out two.